The Magic of the Night
by MagicJen
Summary: Mike is searching. He's been searching for years, for the woman who will change his world. Time after time, he's been disappointed. Then, at Club Xquisite, Mike meets Abby. At first she seems like she's everything Mike is looking for. But Abby has a secret...
1. Chapter 1 - Club Xquisite

"Alright, alright! Let's welcome to the stage the one, the only, the cock-rocking kings of Tampa!"

The stage lights come on, soaking the room in their blue-white glow.

Mike walks to the centre of the stage, hat pulled down over his eyes. He drops to the ground, and the crowd gasps.

Sweat slithers down his back as he pounds the floor with his fist. The screams grow so loud they become part of the air and he breathes them in. They are his oxygen, his sustenance.

He jumps up, flexing and biting his lip. The others file in behind him, all scanning the crowd. One by one, they choose a woman from the audience. They all have their favourite types: the screamers; the grabbers; the shy ones who turn into screamers and grabbers.

Mike is different, though. He's looking for something special. Some nights he thinks he has found it, but always there is something missing. Will he ever find her? The one?

A redhead wearing a bridal veil is desperately trying to get his attention. She stands on her chair, screaming "Pick me! Pick me!".

Mike is about to hold out his hand, when he glances at the chair beside the redhead. Sitting there, arms crossed over her chest, is a woman with long brown hair that is glowing from the stage lights. She is staring at the table, jaw clenched tight.

He sees this all the time, of course—the unimpressed bridesmaid forced to come to Club Xquisite by an overbearing bride. Mike can normally get them to at least crack a smile by the end of the night.

But this woman… this woman isn't like the ones he normally sees. She's pretty, though not beautiful—angular face and thick full lips—but it's more than that. There's something going on within her, something captivating.

Mike ignores the redhead and holds his hand out to the brunette. The redhead, fuming but still smiling, pushes her friend's shoulder.

"Go on, Abby!" she screams.

It is only then that Abby looks up, sees Mike holding out his hand. Their eyes lock, and a shiver shoots down his spine. He tries to calm himself—he's felt this before, hasn't he? And hasn't it always gone wrong?

Abby is shaking her head. Mike jumps down from the stage and walks up to her, holding out his hand again.

"Dance with me," he says.

He can see her mind working behind her blue eyes. His smile broadens. Abby takes his hand and he pulls her onto the stage.

* * *

The stage lights are bright in Abby's eyes. She tries to shield them, but _he_ has hold of both of her hands. What did the announcer call him? Magic Mike?

Abby's stomach burns. Mike pulls her towards an empty chair on the stage.

"Sit down, Abby," he whispers in her ear.

Abby sits—or tries to. She is so focused on Mike's green eyes that she misses the chair and falls onto the stage.

She hears laughter from the audience and for a few seconds she is frozen, unable to get up. Then Mike is beside her.

"Are you alright?" he says.

"I'm fine," Abby says. "I just want to go."

"Take my hand," Mike says.

"That's what got me into this mess."

Abby starts walking to the edge of the stage, but Mike grabs her shoulder.

"Do you trust me?" he says.

Abby turns and stares into his eyes. She wants to say no—she doesn't know him, knows nothing about him apart from that he's a stripper and the most handsome man she's ever seen in person. He could be a serial killer for all she knows.

But… there's something in his eyes, something that makes her feel safe with him.

"Do you trust me?" Mike repeats.

Abby nods and Mike smiles.

"Let's go," he says.

He rushes her backstage, to a dingy dressing room. He stops to put on a shirt and shoes before leading Abby outside. He opens the door of a shiny black truck.

"Your chariot, my lady," he says.

Despite herself, Abby laughs. As he closes the door, she knows she's in trouble.

And for the first time since that night in Tallahassee, that night three years ago that changed everything, she doesn't feel like running away.


	2. Chapter 2 - A Tough Nut to Crack

Abby sits with her head pressed against the soft leather seat of the truck. She stares out the window as the lights of the city whip by in blurred streaks. She lifts her hand, feels the air coursing through her fingers. She almost forgets who she is. She almost forgets her past, what she's done. She almost forgets Tallahassee and the night that has haunted her for the past three years.

Mike has the radio on, some top-40 song Abby doesn't know, and is drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Abby allows herself to glance over at him.

With his clothes on he looks less a god, and more a man. There's no hiding his height and his build, and his handsome face, but here in the truck he seems more human than he did on the stage at Club Xquisite.

The butterflies in Abby's stomach quieten their flapping, enough for her to be able to speak.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

Mike looks over, grinning. "You'll see."

Ten minutes later Mike pulls into a dark lot. Abby swallows, hard. She looks up as they drive under a faded, cracking sign:

_Albert's Drive-In Movees!_

The place is abandoned. Mike drives up in front of the old screen—or, the rusted frame that used to be the screen.

He puts the truck in park and turns off the engine. They are surrounded by darkness and silence, apart from the sound of their breathing.

"Where are we?" Abby asks, finally.

"Albert's. What's left of it, anyway. I used to come here when I was a kid."

"What happened to it?"

"When was the last time you went to a drive in movie?"

"I can't even remember."

"THAT'S what happened to it."

The wind blows a pile of dead leaves in front of the truck. Abby watches them dance, then thinks of Mike dancing. She covers her blushing cheeks.

"Who are you, Abby?" Mike asks.

"I don't know. I'm no one. I'm just Abby Davies."

Mike turns to her. "If there's one thing I'm sure about, Abby Davies, it's that you're not JUST anything."

For a while, neither of them speak.

"Where are you from?" Mike asks.

"The mean streets of suburban Tallahassee."

Mike laughs. "Why are you in Tampa?"

"I was transferred for work. I'm an accountant with Drawson and Galligans."

Silence again. Abby looks up at Mike—he is staring at her, green eyes narrowed. The intensity in those eyes makes her turn away.

"What were you doing at the club tonight?" Mike asks.

Abby raises an eyebrow. "You sure ask a lot of questions."

"I"m sorry. I'm just—I want to get to know you. I want to understand you."

The butterflies return to Abby's stomach.

"The redhead, Jillian, she's the HR manager at work. I'm not even friends with her, but she invited me and she can make life difficult for me if I piss her off. So I put on this ridiculous dress and these shoes I can't walk in and I came out."

"I don't think the dress is ridiculous."

Abby laughs at this. "You're smooth, Mike."

"And you're defensive, Abby."

Abby sighs. He's right—she feels like she's been on the defensive ever since she moved to Tampa. It probably explains why she has no friends, and why tonight is the first night she's been out since she arrived.

She feels pathetic. She knows she's pathetic. And she doesn't want Mike to think of her that way—but she has to tell him.

Because if she tells him the truth, the REAL truth about her past, she knows he'll kick her out of the truck and leave. If he finds out her secret, she'll never see him again.

"I've been in Tampa for three months now," Abby says. "It still scares me. I don't know anyone here, and the most human interaction I get is my geriatric boss Tom hitting on me every day. I'm defensive because I'm alone. I need to look out for myself."

Mike leans in. He slips his arm around Abby's back.

"You're not alone anymore," he whispers.

He leans in closer. Abby can smell his cologne, mixed with the sweat from the stage. It feels so long ago that they were in the club, now that it's just them, alone in this abandoned place.

Abby's heart feels like it's going to beat out of her chest. Mike's lips are almost touching hers. Suddenly, without understanding why, Abby pulls away.

Mike sighs and sits back in his seat. He rubs his chin as he stares up at the decayed old screen.

"I'm sorry," Abby whispers.

Mike turns the key in the ignition and shakes his head.

"You're going to be a tough nut to crack, Abby Davies. I can tell that much already."


	3. Chapter 3 - The Promotion

Abby stares down at the reports on her desk, the numbers blurring in her head. She's been stuck all morning - she know she needs to finish her reports, but all she can think about is Mike.

Abby sighs as she glances up at the clock. It's not even twelve. She finds herself tapping her pen on the desk to the beat of the song Mike was dancing to on stage. She glances up at the clock again—not even a minute has passed.

"Do you have those expense reports, Abby?"

Tom, her boss, is standing in front of her desk. He's wearing his brown, stained trousers again, and he's missed a button on his beige shirt. A sliver of pasty skin shows through. Abby shudders.

"There were a couple of discrepancies," Abby lies. "I'm just going over them again."

Tom walks around beside Abby's chair and perches on her desk. He has the faint smell of cabbage.

"It's almost lunch time," he says. "How about you and I go down to Bruno's, we can discuss the Denham account."

"Oh, I brought my lunch today. I'm trying to be healthy."

"I'll order you a salad. Come on."

Tom stands. Abby knows the look on his face - he's not going to take no for an answer.

"I'll get my purse."

* * *

Abby takes a bite of her salad, staring wistfully at Tom's pizza. She feels something on her leg, and repositions herself. The something touches her again—Tom's foot. She sits as far back in her chair as she can, pushing her legs right back. Tom grins at her.

They're sitting at Tom's favorite table, outside, right near the entrance. Right where every single person walking past can see Abby with him. She plays with her hair, trying to cover her face so that no one can see her. When she looks up at Tom, his mouth is gaping open, staring at her hair.

"You wanted to talk about the Denham account?" Abby says.

It takes Tom a few seconds to respond. "Ah—yes—the account. Well, Abby, you've been doing great work for us since you've been here. I see some real potential in you. So, I'd like you to head up the Denham account. You'll be the lead accountant, dealing directly with Travis Denham himself."

Abby's eyes go wide. The Denham's are like royalty in Tampa, and one of the richest families in the state. They practically have a monopoly on food manufacturing, amongst all their other investments. And Travis Denham is known around the city for his high-roling, hard-partying ways.

"They're our biggest account," Abby says, dumbly.

"That's why I want my best gal on it. You and I will be working very closely on it, of course, there will be a lot of late nights and weekends."

Abby's stomach flips. There's the kicker—deal with Tom's constant sleaziness, or lose the biggest opportunity of her career.

"So? Are you up for it?"

Abby nods. "Yes, I am."

Tom grins again, and Abby's heart sinks. This isn't going to be easy.

They finish their lunch, and Tom goes inside to settle the bill. Abby stands on the street, lost in thought about her big new promotion, and the headaches that will surely come with it.

"Abby Davies."

Abby looks up, still in a daze.

Mike stands in front of her, dressed in jeans and a shirt, with dirty work boots and a huge smile.

"I don't even get a hello?" he says, laughing.

"I'm sorry," Abby says, still lost in his energy. "Hello—hi."

"What are you doing out here?" Mike asks.

"I was just at lunch with a colleague. I'm on my way back to work."

"Do you want me to walk you?"

Abby nods, smiling. She points up the street. "I'm up that way."

Mike walks up beside her—then she hears Tom's voice. "Abby? Where are you going?"

She hates the sound of that voice. It takes everything in her to not scream at him to leave her alone. Instead she turns back.

"I just ran into an old friend. I'll meet you back at the office."

Tom stares Mike up and down, a scowl on his face. Mike's smile doesn't falter as he reaches his hand out to Tom.

"I'm Mike."

Tom puts his arm around Abby's shoulder. The smell of cabbage grows stronger.

"Is this guy bugging you?" Tom asks.

Abby can't help but laugh. She shrugs his arm off.

"He's my friend. Like I said, I'll meet you back at the office."

Tom's face grows red and he pushes past Mike. "Don't be late back, Abby."

Abby and Mike both turn and watch Tom angrily stride down the street.

"Seems like a cool guy," Mike says, laughing again.

"That's Tom, the bane of my existence."

"I guess I'd better get you back to the office quick. You can't be late back!"

Abby stares up into Mike's deep green eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm just on my way home."

"Oh. Look—I'm—I'm sorry about last night," Abby says.

"Sorry about what? I had a great time."

"Things got weird. I got weird."

"I don't remember weird. I remember spontaneous, interesting, sexy. Not weird."

Abby feels her cheeks burning once again. There's something about his voice that makes her knees weak.

"Do you really have to go back to work?" Mike asks.

"Yeah. I wish I didn't. But we have this big new account. I have to be on my best behavior."

"Have dinner with me tonight then. I'll pick you up."

"Alright."

Abby smiles. But in the back of her mind, all she can think about is Tallahassee.


	4. Chapter 4 - Travis Denham

Abby stares at the clock on the wall, grinning. Twenty minutes. In twenty minutes she gets to leave, to go outside where Mike will be waiting for her. Dinner, and then…? Abby bites her lip, trying not to let her excitement boil over.

"Abby?" Even the sound of Tom's voice can't dampen how she's feeling.

"Abby?" he repeats.

"Yes?"

"I have great news. Travis Denham has flown in from Miami this afternoon and he wants to meet us to discuss the account. We're meeting at his hotel in fifteen minutes."

"I can't—I—"

"What, you have other plans? Well, I'm sorry, Miss Davies. Do you need me to take you off the account so that it doesn't interfere with your questionable social life?"

Abby sighs. There is no one she wants to see right now more than Mike. The thought of his smile, his smell, the way he speaks… But the Denham account is the break she's been waiting for, and could make her career. With that kind of account on her resume, she knows she can get a job at any accounting firm in the country.

"No," Abby says. "I'm fine. I can go."

"Good. Go freshen yourself up and meet me downstairs in two minutes."

"Yes, boss."

As Tom walks away, Abby picks up the phone to call Mike, but puts the receiver back down a second later. Her stomach is flipping over violently—she can't face the sound of his voice right now. Instead she takes out her cell and sends a message.

_I'm so sorry, I can't come tonight. We have a meeting with a major client and I can't miss it or I might lose my job. Can we reschedule?_

She puts her phone in her bag and pulls out a small mirror, checking the makeup she put on just for Mike. She hopes Travis Denham is worth the trouble.

* * *

Abby walks into the Seminole hotel, two steps behind Tom. He looks ridiculously out of place amongst the hip decor, next to the young and fresh patrons. Abby stays behind him, terrified someone might think they're together.

They get into the elevator, thankfully alone.

"Remember, let me do most of the talking," Tom says. "I want us to make a good impression."

Maybe you should have changed your shirt then, Abby thinks. But she just smiles and nods.

They get off the elevator and walk up a door that says "Roxy". Tom knocks, six times. Abby stifles a laugh at his awkwardness—from what she knows of Mr Denham, this is going to be interesting.

A few seconds later, the door opens. Abby has seen photos of Travis online, and in the paper, but they don't do him justice. He's tall—at least six foot two—with black hair perfectly slicked back. He has the face of an old-Hollywood movie star, and he's dressed immaculately in a navy suit.

He smiles, flashing perfect teeth. "Tom Sanders?"

"Yes, Mr Denham, Sir. My name is Tom, Tom Sanders."

Travis laughs. "Come in, Tom Tom."

Tom walks into the room and Travis turns his attention to Abby. "And you are?"

"I'm Abby Davies. I'm assisting Tom Tom on your account."

Leaning against the doorframe, Travis smiles. He lowers his voice. "Thank God. That guy looks like a headache and a half."

"You have no idea, Mr Denham."

"Call me Travis. And come in."

Abby walks into the suite. Tom has already taken a seat at the dining table, and opened his briefcase. He's shuffling through the mess of papers inside.

Travis walks to the bar and pours himself a whiskey. "Would either of you like a drink?"

"No, sir," Tom says. "We never drink on the job."

Abby sits down next to Tom at the table. "I'll have a whiskey."

"That's what I like to hear!" Travis says.

Tom kicks her, hard. "What are you doing?" he whispers.

"I'm bonding with the client," Abby whispers back.

Travis pours a second whiskey, then brings both to the table and sits down.

"So, here's the deal," Travis says. "My parents have worked hard their entire lives, to build our empire out of nothing. They deserve to take a break, to relax and enjoy what they've built. So they're going to start taking a step back in the business, and I'm going to be taking over most of the operation. Our last accountants were useless, which is why we signed on with you last week. I have a very hands-on approach to the business, and it's important to me to know what's going on at all times. I need to trust that I can contact someone at your company any hour of the day to discuss our account. Can you handle that?"

Tom nods vigorously. "Of course, Mr Denham."

"Who's my point guy on the account?" Travis asks.

Abby raises her hand. "That would be me."

"And you're alright with this? I need to be able to contact you any time. That's non-negotiable."

Abby smiles and takes a business card out of her bag. She picks up a pen and writes on it.

"This is my work number, that's my cell, and that's my home number. Call whenever you need to."

Travis considers her for a while. "Alright. I like this, I think it's going to work. Now, Tom Tom, have you looked over the acquisition plans I sent today?"

"Yes, Sir. I ran the numbers on it myself. I have thirty years experience in corporate accounting, I'm not sure if you knew that."

"I think you mentioned it in your emails. Once or twice."

"Well, from the information you gave me, I have to advise against it. I can understand the appeal of owning a small airline, of course, but T5 Air have been steadily losing money every single quarter since they launched. I have no idea how they've even stayed afloat this long. And you have to think about the outgoings—they're astronomical."

Travis claps his hands. "Exactly what I wanted to hear."

Tom exhales. "Great. I think it would have been a big mistake to acquire it."

"Oh, I'm still buying it," Travis says. "I'm just glad you're advising against it. That's what a good accountant would do."

Abby laughs, and Tom kicks her again. She takes a sip of her whiskey.

Tom clears his throat. "Mr Denham, I have to strongly advise—"

"What do you think, Abby?" Travis says.

"I agree with Tom that it's a bad investment," Abby says. "But I have a feeling you've got deeper reasons than just financial. I'm interested in finding out more about your plans for it."

Travis nods. "Alright, Tom. You can go. I'm going to need those reports we talked about by 10am."

"Yes, sir," Tom says.

"And I'm going to need Abby to stay for a while to discuss the T5 acquisition."

"Uh, if she's alright with that—"

"I'm fine with that," Abby says.

Travis stares at Tom, eyebrow raised, until he slinks out of the room and shuts the door behind him.

"He's definitely a headache," Travis says. "I have a sixth sense for that kind of thing. I have no idea how you work so closely with him."

"That's life," Abby says. She suddenly feels uncomfortable, alone in the room with Travis. "You wanted to discuss T5?"

Grinning, Travis takes a sip of his drink. "You're right about my reasons. They're not financial. Not entirely, anyway."

"Are you going to tell me what they are?"

"No." Travis leans across the table and brushes a stray piece of hair off Abby's face. "I'm going to show you. Let me get my things."

Travis walks into the bedroom, and it's only then that Abby thinks to check her phone. Her heart beats faster when she sees the little message icon—a text from Mike.

_Of course, I understand. But just so you know, I'm going to be thinking about you all night, while you're at your boring meeting. Thinking about you, and planning our next date. xx Mike._

"Are you ready?" Travis says.

Abby quickly puts her phone away. She smiles. "Yes, let's go."


	5. Chapter 5 - Acquisition

Mike stands backstage, behind the curtain. He can hear the noise of the crowd growing—it's almost showtime.

He takes out his phone, for the hundredth time that night. Still nothing from Abby. He pounds his fist lightly on the wall as he thinks. Ever since the minute he laid eyes on her, he's wanted to know more, wanted to experience more of her.

Normally girls don't have this kind of effect on him—the crazy checking of the phone, the up-all-night fantasies.

"You ready, my man?"

Mike turns to see Dallas behind him. He's shirtless, ready to go out and get the crowd warmed up.

"Uh-huh," Mike says.

Dallas raises an eyebrow. "You don't sound too enthusiastic there."

"I just—I have something on my mind."

"Something, or someone?"

Mike forces a laugh. "Since when have you known me to lose my mind over a girl?"

Shaking his head, Dallas lays a hand on Mike's shoulder. "You gotta grow up sometime. It happens to the best of us. Who's the girl?"

"Hey, what girl?" Richie says, walking up to them.

"There's no girl," Mike says.

"You mean except for the one you ran off with, and made us cover for you the rest of the show?" Richie says.

"He thinks we have damn short memories," Dallas says.

Mike shakes his head. "Let's not keep these ladies waiting."

"Whatever you say, loverboy." Dallas grins and slinks out on stage.

The crowd screams, and Mike gets into character. Thoughts of Abby will have to wait.

* * *

Abby wakes up with a jolt. She looks around, confused for a moment—she's in a car. A limousine, to be more accurate. Through the fog of sleep she remembers, and turns to see Travis typing on his phone.

He looks up. "You're awake."

"I'm sorry." Abby rubs her eyes.

"Don't apologize. It's a long drive out here."

"Where are we?"

"Almost there."

Abby looks out the window—they're in the middle of nowhere. How long was she asleep for?

A couple of minutes later, the limo turns off the main road and stops at a gate. The sign on the gate says:

Private Property. Trespassers will be prosecuted.

Within seconds the gate starts to slide open, the sound of clanging metal breaking the silence.

The road beyond the gate is dark. Abby turns back to Travis.

"This is T5?"

Travis nods, but doesn't answer—he's caught up in whatever he's typing on his phone.

When the limo finally stops, Travis smiles at Abby and gets out. Abby follows him.

They're standing in front of a single, sad-looking hangar. The metal walls have strips of rust, and the building's sign has fallen from its place, now sitting face-down on the ground where piles of rubbish are strewn about.

"I don't understand," Abby says.

"Come inside," Travis says.

"In there?" Abby raises her eyebrows at the hangar.

"It's not as scary as it looks," Travis says. He winks. "I promise."

He walks over to the door and pulls it open. Abby stands behind him, peering in—it's pitch black inside. Travis feels on the inside wall for the light switch.

"Are we meant to be here?" Abby asks. "Do we have permission?"

"We don't need permission. I bought the company on the way here."

He finds the light and switches it on. He steps inside.

The hangar slowly comes to life, the light illuminating an immaculately-kept interior. The walls are freshly painted, and the room is lined with shelving and workdesks, all in perfect order.

In the middle of the hangar is a single, small plane. It's the type with a small propellor on the front, and space for two inside. It gleams white under the bright lights, and has a curving red pattern painted on the side. Near the tail is the word "Eternity".

Travis walks over to the plane, runs his hand over the pattern, stopping on Eternity.

"It's finally mine," Travis says. "All these years later and it's mine."

Abby walks over to stand next to him. He has tears in his eyes.

"Whose plane is this?" she asks.

"It belonged to a friend. And I'm going to take it home."

"Home to where?"

"Tallahassee."

Abby bites her lip, hard. She can feel her eyes widen, and she tries to force them back to normal.

"What's in Tallahassee?" she finally manages to say, her voice low. She's sure Travis will be able to hear her heart beating wildly, so she covers her chest with her hand.

"The fulfilment of a promise and the end of a long story."

"A long story…" Abby mumbles.

Travis turns to her. "Have you ever been there?"

"I lived there for a little while." Abby tries to sound calm, but she can't look Travis in the eye.

"See, there's another thing we have in common."

"You're going there now? To—to Tallahassee?" The word tastes bitter on her tongue.

Travis sighs. "No. Not now. But soon. Right after I take care of some business."

Abby nods, relieved. For a moment she thought he was going to ask her—

"I want you to come with me when I go," Travis says. "I think you're going to like how this plays out."

"I don't think I can do that. I have work."

"You work for me. Tom will do whatever I tell him to do."

"I have—" Abby panics, unable to think of an excuse. "That should be fine," she says. She needs time, to think of a reason to go. Three years ago she swore she'd never set foot in Tallahassee again, that she'd die before she did, and she intends to keep that vow.

Travis leans in, his face close to hers. "I'm glad I found you," he whispers. He kisses her, his lips soft, gentle.

Despite herself, Abby kisses him back. And at that exact moment, an image of Mike flashes into her mind.


	6. Chapter 6 - The Date

Abby stands out the front of her apartment, twisting her hair around her finger. She plays with the straps of her white satin top, pulls at the waistband of her jeans. The butterflies that have taken up a permanent spot in her stomach flap and flap their wings.

She hears an engine, and turns to see Mike's van approaching. She swallows and exhales, trying to calm herself down.

He pulls up, and jumps out of the van, his smile wide and infectious. Ah, that smile. It gets Abby, every time. Things just feel easy when Mike is in front of her. She can forget Tom, and Travis, and Tallahassee. She can just be Abby.

"How's my girl?" Mike says, as he stands in front of her.

"Better, now," Abby smiles.

Mike's grin grows wider. "Ready to go?"

"You haven't even told me where we're going."

"You know me. It's a surprise."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Mike pulls the van up in front of an old building by the beach. It looks boarded up, deserted.

"You have a thing about abandoned places, huh?" Abby says.

"I like privacy. I spend all night in a club with screaming women—sometimes I just want some peace and quiet."

Abby smiles as Mike leads her around the side of the building. At the back, a long metal ladder leads up to the roof. Without a word, Mike climbs up the ladder to the second-story roof. He disappears for a moment, then peers over the roof and motions for Abby to climb up.

She raises an eyebrow at him, but she climbs the ladder. At the top, Mike takes her hand and helps her over.

Abby stands, dumbstruck. Although the building is abandoned, and there's no one for miles that she can see, the roof is like a secret oasis. There are plants in pots, flowering red and orange and purple. A table sits in the middle of all the plants, set with two places. Covered bowls and bottles of wine cover the table, along with a large bunch of flowers.

Little twinkling lights are wrapped around everything, glowing stronger in the twilight.

"Better than a noisy restaurant with a million other people?" Mike says.

Abby glances over at Mike. All of this, for her.

Feelings rush over her, more than she can even identify. Fear. Love. Lust. Terror. She pushes them aside. There's only one thing she wants.

Abby reaches up, slips her hands behind Mike's neck. He looks surprised for a moment, but he doesn't move. Abby stands on her toes, leans in close. She thinks of the drive in, where he took her the first night they met. He tried to kiss her and she pulled away. What was she thinking?

Abby presses her lips to Mike's. His kiss is strong and sweet, exactly like he is. She gets lost in it for a while, let's her mind switch off and her body switch on. This is how it should feel, she finally thinks. When Travis kissed her at the hangar it didn't feel like this, so comforting, and right.

She pushes thoughts of Travis from her mind. This is where she wants to be. This is what's real, right now.

They stand like that for minutes on beautiful minutes, Abby's hands softly slipping through Mike's hair, Mike's hands gripping her waist, venturing down to her hips. She can sense the light disappearing, the moon lighting the sky.

Eventually, they break apart. Abby looks into Mike's eyes, scared for a moment that he doesn't feel what she's feeling. But she sees it there, the same desire and connection she has.

Mike slowly shakes his head, his grin returning. He takes her hand and leads her to the table, sitting her in her chair. He pours two glasses of wine, and they watch the remainder of the day disappear in silence.


End file.
